


Neither Timid nor Tame

by anr



Category: Stargate Atlantis RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-23
Updated: 2007-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Torri and Joe had quiet moments on set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither Timid nor Tame

  


* * *

  


Of all the sets in _Atlantis_ , Torri's pretty sure she likes the main 'gate room the best. She's not sure why exactly -- it's hardly the most practical set, with all the different angles and levels; the camera crew almost commits mutiny every time they film a scene in there that involves lots of walking and moving around -- but something about it just _works_ for her.

Cutting the scene, Will tells them all to take five, moving off set with one of the PA's, and everyone scatters immediately. Leaving her own mark, Torri finds a spot, half way down the stairs, where she can lean against the wall and stretch her legs out along the step. Idly, she watches Jason and Rachel practice a couple of the moves from their upcoming sparring scene across the set.

Joe wanders over, a bottle of water in one hand and his cell in the other. Taking a seat on the step a couple below hers, he passes her the water bottle and leans back so that his head can rest against her thigh.

Sipping at the water, she watches him go through his messages for a moment, before turning back to Jason and Rachel.

The break passes quickly.

  


* * *

  


While they wait for Leah to finish touching up Paul's makeup, she and Joe sit side by side on one of the infirmary benches, a script spread across their knees and Joe's hand brushing against hers where it rests in the space between them.

When they turn the page, she hooks her little finger around his.

  


* * *

  


She takes Sedge to the park across from the lot during her lunch break; watches her run around the flower beds and trees, playing with the other dogs, while she sits on a bench, sipping her coffee and thinking about anything except the afternoon's upcoming scenes.

Joe skates over, a bag from the local deli in his hands, and she shifts over on the bench so that he can drop down beside her.

"Paul and Jase are organising Friday night drinks for when we're done today," he says, handing her a sub. "You in?"

"Sure." She passes him his coffee. "Sounds like fun."

"Hmm." Swallowing his mouthful, he sends her a sly grin. "I heard they're thinking of karaoke."

She laughs, memories of the last time flooding back in an instant. (Even now, weeks later, she's still surprised they weren't kicked out of the bar that night.) "Oh, god," she says, "heaven help us if that's true."

"Amen," agrees Joe, and taps his coffee cup against hers in solidarity.

  


* * *

  


There's something about filming on bedroom sets that always makes her feel kinda sleepy, just a little too comfortable in her surroundings.

"Cut!" says Paul, stepping away from the camera, and Torri opens her eyes as the set suddenly comes alive again, crew bustling about to prepare for the next scene.

Stretching, she stays where she is, content enough for the moment to just wait here until they're ready again. At the fake doorway, Joe lounges against the wall, a tired half-smile on his face as he watches her.

"Comfortable?" he asks.

"Mmm." Shifting, she tugs one of the pillows into a better position, all but curling around it. "Mostly."

One of the lighting techs squeezes past Joe, followed by one of the prop guys. Stepping out of the way, he sits down on the edge of the bed just as Paul walks back over.

"Sorry, guys," he says, checking his clipboard, "we're having a slight problem with the green screen. If you can just sit tight for a moment, we'll get going again soon, okay?"

"Sure thing," says Joe, reaching over to snatch one of her pillows. She swats at his hand, but nevertheless lets him steal it.

"No problem," she agrees, yawning.

"Great," says Paul, nodding; he's already walking away.

Lying down beside her, Joe links his hands behind his head. "Wake me when it's time," he says, yawning himself.

Her eyes are already closing again. "Mmm. Ditto."

  


* * *

  


She leaves when the filming starts, the lure of watching David and Jason mimic Rachel's fight scene behind the camera with action figures just not enough to keep her interested today. Wandering through the sets, she eventually comes across the puddlejumper. It's draped in tarp again, its scenes already shot for the week, and she slips between the heavy folds of canvas before anyone can see her.

It's dark inside, with no kliegs to illuminate the area, and she makes her way to the chairs at the front carefully, mindful of her step.

"Hey," says Joe quietly, his voice almost inaudible.

She smiles. "Hey," she echoes softly. When she straddles him in the chair, his hands grip her waist, fingers just edging underneath the hem of her shirt. "Miss me?"

"Hmm." He tugs her forward so that he can kiss her, lips moving lazily against hers. "Always."

She smiles again, breaking the kiss; moves her mouth along the curve of his jaw, down the length of his neck. When she nips at the skin over his pulse, tonguing the faint mark, he hisses sharply, his hands moving under her shirt and tracing the curve of her spine. With one hand, he undoes the clasp on her bra.

"Clever," she whispers, her own hand skimming down his chest until she can find his belt.

"I try," he says, and she can feel his smile against her forehead.

She finds his mouth again; kisses him as his hand moves under her shirt until he's palming her breast, his thumb brushing maddeningly slowly over her nipple. She groans.

"Shh," he says immediately, hand stilling, "quiet," and she works her hand into his pants, palming him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It's his turn to groan.

"Shh," she says innocently, unzipping her own pants with her free hand, but he pulls his hands free of her clothes, burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her deeply, before she can finish the repetition. She doesn't mind.

With his help, she lifts herself up off his lap just long enough for them to shed their shoes and pants, returning as soon as they're both free. Finding her knees, his hands smooth along her thighs, tugging her forward, and she shifts with him, rising up again so that he can slide into her.

"Oh," she breathes out, forehead dropping to rest on his shoulder. She braces her feet on the ground and rises up slightly on her toes; sinks down again slowly. His breathing stutters against her neck.

They find a rhythm that works, one that has her limbs trembling in what feels like mere seconds, heat spreading through her entire body as she climbs closer and closer to orgasm. One of his hands reaches up to tug at the neckline of her shirt, exposing the curve of her shoulder to his mouth, while his other hand slips between them. When he grazes her clit with his fingertips, her whole body tenses, muscles clenching around him, and he strokes her again and again, drawing the moment out.

He's still hard inside her when she comes back down from her high, his hands now tight on her waist. Kissing him, she starts to move again, resuming the rhythm that worked so well for her, until he's groaning into her mouth, his fingers leaving faint bruises on her hips.

He whispers her name when he comes, and she thinks that might just be even better than the sex itself.

They pull apart too soon, common sense overruling the desire to stay just as they are. It will be suspicious enough if they're found in here together, the smell of sex heavy in the air, let alone found semi-naked and still entwined.

When they're dressed again, and mostly presentable, she sits down in the seat next to his, angling the chair so that she can look at him. He stretches out, propping his feet up on the fake console.

"Love you," he says idly, watching her, and she smiles affectionately.

"Quiet," she whispers. Then, "me too."

Grinning, he closes his eyes.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/289453.html>


End file.
